Holding Pattern
by PhoenixDragonDreamer
Summary: He could feel Sam's eyes on him and he wanted to speak, to let him know this wasn't what he thought it was - he wasn't throwing him away, he was throwing himself away.


**Holding Pattern**

**By****PhoenixDragonDreamer**

**A/N:** Wrote this three days ago - it was time to let the baby go.

**Warnings: **Gen,Dark!Fic, Angst, Spoilers for 5.16, R

**Wordcount: **688

**Summary:**_He could feel Sam's eyes on him and he wanted to speak, to let him know this wasn't what he thought it was - he wasn't throwing him away, he was throwing himself away._

**Disclaimer: **Sadly (for me) I do not own them - they are owned by Cw, Kripke and Co. I just (unfortunately for THEM) like to play with them occasionally. I promise I will put them back in the same condition I found them in (which wasn't all that great to begin with *grins*). Not making any money - just having an awesome time!

* * *

He hesitated. Even as he held the amulet, over the trashcan, he paused knowing he had to move forward but unable to go back. He could feel Sam's eyes on him and he wanted to speak, to let him know this wasn't what he thought it was - he wasn't throwing him away, he was throwing _himself_ away.

Pathetic.

How many times had he done that? Laid his life on the line, gone to that...that _place_ - only to be yanked back again? How meaningless did that make everything? How meaningless did it make _him, _to learn that Sam had better things to do, better places to _be_ -

Only to have that information erased, with him following Sam around everywhere like a stupid, worthless puppy.

No, the amulet wasn't worthless, _Sam_ wasn't worthless - but he wasn't worthy of wearing Sam's love for him. Not when he had let him down so badly.

So he let it fall from his fingers, the hollow ting of the metal hitting the bottom of the trashcan as loud as a gun blast to his own ears. He willed Sam to look away, to not see what he had done, because he knew his brother would take it wrong, knew he would take it to heart. Think that Dean was throwing away his love, his family - but nothing was further from the truth.

He had taken Sam away from Stanford, from his safe haven and had drawn the demon right to his brother, getting Jessica killed. Then he'd let Dad down, forcing the man to give his own life to save his stupid ass, and when he'd let Sam die -

That was the worst day of his life. He could feel Dad's disapproval, he could feel his accusation - '_Why_ him_? Where were you? Why him and not_ you_?!_' and finding he could get behind that, had done the only thing he could think to make it right again.

And he'd dragged him back to this crap world. He'd taken him away from peace, from _sanity_ - from his happy memories that had nothing to do with him, with Dad, with their miserable holidays, cramped quarters and the other million and one headaches that came with the life on the road. He wasn't bitter about that (well, not _completely_) he had wanted Sam to go back to the life he'd craved, he'd begged him with practically his last breath before the Hounds came for him - but Sam being Sam...

And let's face it. He wasn't the same Dean, was he? No, that Dean had been bad enough, but this new Dean, he was so much fucking worse. He'd gotten a taste for torture, for blood, and he had to fight it every day - so what fucking hypocrite was he, anyway? He'd let Sam slide into addiction, into madness and instead of being there for him, protecting him, holding him up? He'd just let it happen. Seen it with his own two eyes and just let it fucking happen. Worse than that - he had condemned him to it, then condemned him _for_ it (when really, he was no fucking better, was he?)

He'd turned Bobby (_Bobby_ for fucksake) into a broken man, forced to live the rest of his life in a chair, mind never far from the gun in his desk, tongue poised to curse the day he had met them. And why not?

What had knowing the Winchesters, knowing _Dean_ ever gotten him? Except his friends killed - Pamela, Ellen, Jo, countless others - and where did it end? Shit, he'd dragged an _angel_ into this hopeless mess and destroyed what _made_ him an angel. Now he was a miserable half-angel, half-man 'thing' that'd had all of his hopes ripped away, his one true quest that was pure and good and _right _dismantled before his eyes - by one Dean fucking Winchester.

Now he had two people and one angel that didn't want to be around him that he had effectively destroyed.

If only he wasn't such a prick, he could save them - and maybe save what was left of himself.

He could only hope Sam left that fucking necklace in the trash - where they _both_ belonged.

_**~FIN~**_


End file.
